


The Flowers You Bloom

by TheDying_Hero



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Highschool AU, M/M, Panic Attacks, Soulmate AU, Virgil is just a little baby, fluffly, he thinks he's the villiam, kinda has angst, patton is a smol bean, roman is mean for like three minutes, soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:41:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDying_Hero/pseuds/TheDying_Hero
Summary: Virgil has a tendency to paint flowers on his skin, carefully crafting only to hide them. Despite working hard to make sure his art stays hidden, his soulmates still see's it, the paintings transferring to his skin. Virgil will never tell his soulmate who he is, but Roman wants nothing more.When they collide, Virgil tries not to love him, but Roman is much to flashy to allow such a thing.(soulmate au where one person draw on their skin and the other can see it)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton & Thomas Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	The Flowers You Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> This is a longer piece but I love these two boys and thought the prompt was perfect for them! So I tired my hand at this au and I'm pretty proud so far. I hope you guys like this story!

Virgil couldn’t help the impulse to paint his skin anymore, not when it brought such comfort to his never ending thoughts. The feeling of wet bristles stroking his skin, the smell of brightly colored paints and the act of concentration on making a perfect flower. The process was always long, taking his time to make each petal just right and make sure he created something beautiful. He put effort into each and every stroke, color and design, it always needed to be perfect. 

He felt bad after all, as these brightly colored roses and hyacinths were staining someone else's body too. 

His soulmate. 

A person his soul long for and that life had been created just for him, in better words his other half. It was terrifying to Vigil, the idea of having someone he was meant for. Broken, nasty and anxious Virgil. He was far from ideal, even father from perfect. It was thoughts like this that contributed most to his ever growing anxiety. 

What does he think of him? Would he like him? What about his shitty sense of humor? Or his crase attitude toward people? What if he hated Virgil for constantly painting in his body? What if he thought he was worth- 

He painted a little faster now, dragging the brush a little hard against his skin, feeling the paint smooth over his blank canvas of skin. The colors were bright, purples, yellows, reds and green, all mixing together in a lovely bouquet of thoughts and paint. Roses wrapped around his wrist, the red slowly drawing up his arms and intertwined with purple Hyacinths and carefully placed Hellebores until he was drawing awkwardly on his collarbone, looking in a mirror with deep concentration. 

He could sit in front of the mirror for hours if it meant he filled up his skin into something more beautiful than he was. He didn’t mind the numbness in his legs as he sat crisscross or the awkward tilt of his head to get a better angle. It didn’t matter, at least not at the moment, not while he was painting. 

He was sure his soulmate would never love him, he was positive they would hate him and have found his flowers repulsive. There was no stream of consciousness where they would fall in love with each other, it was impossible. 

He was easily overlooked, wearing a large baggy hoodie to cover the delicate pictures on his skin and purple hair hanging down enough to just cover his eyes. He was overlooked, ignored and forgotten, he was alright with that. In fact, he preferred it. 

But every so often, Virgil would come down from that state of comfortable loneliness and into a pit of isolation, longing for a friend, an enemy, even a soulmate. A prince to rescue him from himself. Those were the times he drew the most, with a desperate need to cover his blank skin and brandish something worthwhile along his forgettable self. He would paint for hours, even days, until he filled that void for just a few hours and the weight in his chest lightened for a moment. 

When Virgil finished drawing the last Rose on his collarbone, he looked into the mirror, his eyes roaming along his left arm, taking him every detail. He was satisfied with the bright colors and the calming itch of drying paint on his skin. For the moment the overbearing thoughts of his lonely life disappeared, the idea of his soulmate vanished and for now he was simply Virgil, the boy who loved flowers. 

+++

He would always change in a stall when going to gym class, careful to avoid the ruckus of jocks and more socially acceptable boys. There was a reason he changed away from view, one of them being the perfectly painted flowers on his skin and the other being so extremely self conscious about his pasty white, and skinny body. 

He used to be teased because he wasn’t as strong as the other boys, wasn’t as large or tan. Instead he looked more like a ghost, pale, quiet and relatively weak. He didn’t mind his appearance, only when people stared too much and began to whisper did he feel the growing bug of self consciousness, or at least more than usual. 

For once he finished dressing before the rest of the boy, and as he made his way through the smell of testosterone and sweat, a flash of color and a familiar comment hit his ears. 

“Is your soulmate back at it again with the flowers, Roman?” 

Virgil turned his head and caught sight of Roman Prince, half naked with a large dopey grin on his face. Roman was a handsome man with long legs, strong arms and green eyes that reminded Virgil of Rose stems. Virgil would not deny that he was attracted to Roman, who wouldn’t be? Even taking away his appearance, he was charming, naturally drawing people into his orbit and making them feel loved and wanted.

He was perfect. 

On his left arm was a warped painting of Hyacinths, Roses and Hellebores, carefully crawling up and resting on his collarbones. It was a beautiful piece of art, carefully drawn and placed like it was out of pure love and adoration. 

It was obviously Virgil's painting. 

He had known for at least a year now, after he was switched to gym class with Roman. The boy had whipped off his shirt without a care and there was a giant Magnolia sitting on his ribcage. Virgil had a panic attack after that, quickly getting out of the locker room and into a secluded hallway. He cried and bit his knuckles and scratched at that stupid flower on his ribs. It became unavoidable seeing Roman with his paintings, so Virgil tried to stop the bad habit of painting on his skin, but when life became a little too much, he covered every inch of his body in globs of flowers and paint. 

He didn’t avoid painting after that. 

He never stuck around long enough to hear what Roman thought about the flower, he didn't want to see the possible disgust gracing those perfect green eyes or hear criticism of something so personal to him. He knew that Roman was probably too nice to say such things but anxiety wasn’t supposed to be logical. 

But this time, Virgil didn’t get out quick enough to miss Romans response. 

“Yes they are! Don’t you think it's amazing?! I mean look at all the colors and flowers and how cool it all looks! I love being a walking garden.” 

“Why don't you show them off more then?” 

At this comment Roman deflated and an irritated look pasted to his face, “They say it's too much like a tattoo so I have to cover it.” 

“Your soulmate should be more responsible.” Logan, one of Romans closest friends says while examining the bouquet on the other shoulder. 

“No way! It's the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen! You should be more romantic Logan.” 

Patton was the only who talked to Virgil, always happy and bubbly and soulmates with Logan. At first they looked like a match made in hell, Logan being too formal and rigid while Patton was bursting with excitement and childish enthusiasm. But Virgil noticed how slowly Logan lost his brittle edges and smiled a little more often. He noticed how Patton tempered his enthusiasm in a few more mature ways, and curved his iron grip on happiness by being more honest with himself. 

Patton has gone out of his way to say hello to Virgil and hold one sided conversations at least three times a week since their sophomore year when Virgil had transferred to their school. He liked Patton, he really did, but people who weren’t Patton didn’t see it Virgil as kind. They saw him as a kind of villain with his dark humor and sarcastic stabs at the other. Patton has always laughed at that and Virgil had made sure Patton wasn’t bothered by it. But once again, Virgil was the villain in this high school. 

Vigil didn't notice that he was still staring at the images on Romans arm until Patton said his name, joyfully engaging him into an unwanted conversation. 

“Virgil what do you think?! They're gorgeous right?!” 

At that Roman looked towards the door where the other was awkwardly hovering, brown eyes meeting envy green. Virgil felt his ears burn and his heartbeat quickened, pounding painfully in his throat. Roman looked slightly surprised seeing Virgil, almost like he had never noticed him in this class. 

After a moment Virgil shrugged, and cleared his throat. “They're fine looking, I guess.” 

Before he could watch Patton deflate at this response, Virgil slipped out the door leaving the heavy metal to slam behind him. He forced air in and out of his lungs, trying to calm his drumming heartbeat before he reached into the sleeve of his left sleeve and began scratching at the itchy dried paint. It hurt a little as the acrylic colors chipped away, slowly breaking apart the pretty roses decorating his wrist. 

It was times like this he really did feel like the villain. When he created something beautiful and people liked, only to destroy it. He destroys the images when he stared to long in the mirror at his lanky form or when a bully of two managed to get to deep in his head. He’d paint, then wash. Create, then destroy. 

He saw the irony of that with Roman being his soulmate. 

Roman was always creating, always making something unfathomably wonderful and full of life, breeding it into existence then nurturing it till it grew and grew. Roman, always full of ideas and enough courage to let it bloom, while Virgil felt like he was doomed to destroy it all. Vigil would destroy, chip away all of the perfect things in the world, until he was left with nothing but shattered remains slipping through his fingers. In the end, he knew he was Roman Prince’s villain, a storm cloud of destruction

He picked at the paint until his forearm was exposed, red and raw, and his pulse had even out to a steady beat. There was always that panic when he witnessed Roman looking at his art, it clogged up his throat and fogged his brain. It was unreasonable and presumptuous but anxiety has no master. 

So Virgil would continue to hide. Hide from society, hide from himself and hide from Roman. 

Especially Roman. 

++

It was the next day when Patton bounced up to Virgil's corner table in the cafeteria, and sat giggling in front of the emo. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Patton smiled, blond curls bouncing as he wiggled in his seat. 

“Tell you what?” Virgil said hunching into himself a little more as he felt people starting to stare. 

Patton leaned in closer, his glasses slipping down his nose in what would be adorable if he wasn’t so close. There was a look into sky blue eyes that had Virgil squirming in his seat with a rude comment ready in his throat. 

“That Roman is your soulmate?!” 

Virgil felt his blood run cold and his heart start to thunder. He’d never felt so much panic rise in his chest in his life, how in a manner of seconds his mind began racing. 

“W-what?” 

“I saw you the other day in the hall looking at your arm! And I noticed how you had the same flowers Roman did! When are you going to tell him?!” 

“Never.” Virgil blurted, making Patton's smile drop and eyes widen. “I-I can’t Patton. I-” 

“But Roman….Roman is so excited to meet you.” Patton said smally, his voice a quiet whisper in the chaos of the cafeteria. 

Virgil felt like he just kicked a puppy. Patton, thoughtful, kind and caring Patton, giving him those sad childish eyes. Virgil swallowed his anxiety, swallowing the lump lodged in his throat. He rubbed his eyes harshly, pushing back frustrated, anxiety induced tears. 

Of course Roman wanted to meet his soulmate. What normal person wouldn’t? Soulmates are beautiful. Soulmates were by definition, the other half of a person's soul. But Virgil, an anxiety ridden teenager who can barely look someone in the eye, was shattering and he refused to bring Roman down with him. There was a reason that he painted his skin instead a canvas. Skin was more permanent than paper, but twice as easy to hide. 

Roman was a romantic, from the way he waltzed into the school, made boys and girls blush and how he gives his heart into every performance, every game and every idea. He was a fairy tale prince come to life, the embodiment of everything Virgil was not. 

“It doesn’t matter. I-I’m not saying anything.” 

“Ok, kiddo,” Patton said looking slightly guilty, “but I accidentally invited Roman to your table.” 

Virgil nearly shouted, the words surging in his throat with vomit following closely. He had half the mind to strangle the boy in front of him but before he could make a move for his neck, a voice called out a few feet away. 

“Patton, there you are! Logan and I wandered around for like five minutes looking for you.” 

Roman and Logan stood a few feet away, quickly coming closer. Logan stood stoic beside the flamboyant Roman but gave a silent nod of acknowledgement towards Virgil. Roman on the other hand still hadn’t noticed Virgil, and Virgil will pretend to not be a little insulted. 

“Sorry but Virgil here likes to get away from all the noise.” Patton said, motioning for them to take a seat. 

At that, Roman finally seemed to see Virgil. He didn’t just notice Virgil, he saw him. Those envy green eyes fell on him like a feather-light anchor, they lit up like a stage light would fall upon an actor in center stage. It simultaneously calmed him and made bile rise to his throat. He felt the tip of his ears burn and he avoided the others intense gaze and shot a silent scowl at Patton who sadly shrugged. 

“It does tend to get rather loud where we usually sit. This quieter area is greatly appreciated.” Logan said, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

Virgil stared for a moment at the professional student, half in disbelief that a person actually talks like that and annoyed that they were invading his quiet space. As anxious as he was, he did tend to be territorial. He opened his mouth to spew out some awkward, mean reply but quickly shut his mouth when Roman let out a sunny laugh. 

“I feel that! Everyone is always in our space.” 

With a large smile on his lips, Roman slid into the seat next to Virgil. The anxious boy knew his cheeks were flooded with blood, painting a violent red across his face. He suddenly became acutely aware of all the points on his skill, the rub of the dried colors starting to chip with every involuntary fidgeting movement. 

“Guys I don’t think you’ve met my friend here!” Patton exclaimed, turning all eyes at the table to him. “Logan and Roman, this is Virgil! Virgil, Roman and Logan.” 

“It's a pleasure to meet you Vigil.” Logan said, giving the boy a nod while adjusting his glasses. 

Virgil only nodded in response and his eyes naturally drifted to the boy beside him. 

“What kind of name is Virgil?” The brunette chuckled, a rosy tint on his cheeks. 

Out of everything he thought his soulmate would make him feel, anger wasn’t the top of the list. He was surprised when he felt his blood pressure rise and a low growl being held back in his throat. 

“Excuse me?” Virgil said looking the other in the eyes, his annoyance and light fury evident in his dark eyes. 

“It's just a pretty weird name is all I’m saying.” confusion clouded green eyes and wandered to the rest of the table. “Don’t you guys think?” 

“W-well-” Patton stuttered, twisting his fingers oddly in his hands. 

“Well what kind of name is Roman, Princy?” 

“Princy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Roman screeched, his cheeks tinting red with furry. 

“Aww, are you mad?” 

Virgil titled his head, giving an innocent taunt. Romans lips curled in a simmering anger and he would tell there was an insult poised on his tongue but before he could spit it out at Virgil, Patton interrupted. 

“Come on that's enough.” Patton said calmly, almost like a mother chiding her children. “Roman apologize, that was very rude to say that to someone you just met.” 

“I will not apologize!” Roman grunted, green eyes flashing in the fluorescent lights. 

“Don’t worry about it Patton,” Virgil said rather calmly, grabbing his backpack sitting at his feet. “We wouldn’t want to bruise his ego even more now would we?” 

And with a wave, and Cheshire smirk, Virgil slipped out of seat and sauntered away. The paint rubbing against his clothes itched, throbbing with the need to scratch it off. From the outside, the emo didn’t seem bothered by the interaction, some would even say confident, but his head was swimming in torrent waves. 

His ears felt hot. His pulse was beating violently in his chest and desperately wanted to hide under his blanket in his dark bedroom. His mind was pushing awful thoughts into his head and the need to vomit grew more and more as he re-watched the interaction taking place in his head. 

Why did he say that? 

Was he starting a fight with his soulmate? 

Roman really did hate him? 

Roman was going to hate, he was going to figure out Virgil was his other half and he will hate him even more. He would destroy the flowers the anxious boy would carefully draw and he would hate him. Hate him. Despise him and everything he created then destroyed. 

Virgil ran outside, breathing in the chilly air of autumn and slid down the side of the building. It felt like breathing underwater, or at least trying to. His mind went wild, betraying all common sense, voiding every good thing that has happened and breaking Virgil resolve to keep calm. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, attempting to breath and scratching violently at his collarbone, picking at dried paint and flowers. By the time he felt his lungs open up, the school had long been empty and the sun was setting into a navy and purple hues. 

The first time he spoke to his soulmate, he screwed it up.


End file.
